


Keep Making Trouble Til You Find What You Love

by LilaHurley



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Chicken, Happy Ending, Humour, I'll never write a fic without a happy ending, Love, M/M, Making Out, Patrick is adamant he's not gay, Pete is naughty, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilaHurley/pseuds/LilaHurley
Summary: Pete declares that everyone is at least alittle bitgay, and despite Patrick being ultra gay, he denies it. Which leads to Pete starting a little game, which Patrick knows he won't lose.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flax_wench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flax_wench/gifts).



> I literally woke up this morning and started writing this instantly. 
> 
> I love hearing what you guys think, so let me know! Also leave kudos it's how I feed my family.

_"Everyone_ is a little bit gay." Pete declared from where he was sprawled on the couch. He's not even directing the comment at anyone, he's immersed in his phone.

"What, Pete?" Patrick sighed, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

"Everyone is a little bit gay." Pete shrugged.

"Not true, not once have I been attracted to a dude." Patrick gulped. Why is he lying? It's not shameful.

"Impossible, how can you spend almost every day with me and not want my sweet ass?" Pete grinned. He did a weird hip shimmy on the couch, his tight shirt being pulled even tighter.

"Okay one, your ass isn't sweet, it's offensive and the smell still resides in my bathroom from _last week,"_ Patrick grimaced, "Two, stop rubbing said ass on furniture that isn't yours."

"This couch is blessed to have my ass on it."

"Pete we can practically hear your pants screaming for help." Andy said lightly.

"Quiet Hurley this is between me and the red head." Pete narrowed his eyes at Patrick, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Patrick narrows his eyes back.

"I'm ginger too, idiot." Andy replied.

Pete brushed Andy off and lifted himself off the couch to walk over to Patrick, who was retreating as far back into the wall as he physically could.

"Okay, if you're _really_ not gay, let's play gay chicken. First to chicken out when we go to kiss, loses." Pete smiles.

"How does that make sense? How does kissing a boy when I'm not even slightly gay, prove that I'm not gay?" Patrick raised an eyebrow, arms still tightly crossed against his chest like a barrier to Pete.

"Well, straight men have to be comfortable with their sexuality," Pete was leaning in closer, "Kiss me."

"No, Pete. I'm tired."

"Heard that before." Pete winked. He turned to look at Joe and Andy, who were ignoring everything happening on this side of the room. He turned back to Patrick.

Patrick quickly scrunched his eyes closed and pressed his lips to Pete's. Pete let out a choked hum in surprise, but recovered and pressed back.

Before it could go anywhere fun, Patrick pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"See? I'm comfortable," He shrugged, "Come on guys we gotta get going." He finished as he left the room.

Pete was left there, still facing the wall Patrick was leant against, mouth open in shock. He shook his head to collect himself and ran after the rest of the band, yelling a quick, "This isn't over!" To Patrick, he ignored him and kept walking.

**

Patrick lay on his bed in his hotel room, shaking with nerves. Why didn't he just admit he was a _little_ gay? Well, _a lot_ gay. So gay. The gayest.

Now he has to keep up this act with Pete, when really he wants to drop to his knees and-

The knock at the door pulls him out of his thoughts. He drags himself over to the door, opening it to reveal a smirking Pete.

"Ready for round two?" Pete barely gets out before he's pushing Patrick against the wall and smashing their mouths together. Patrick groans, trying to play it off with annoyance by pushing against Pete's shoulders. But he remembers the game they're playing, Patrick doesn't want to lose. He's too much of a perfectionist.

He gives as good as he gets, opening his mouth and sucking on Pete's tongue. Pete falters for a second, clearly not expecting such a bold move, but quickly catches up by pressing their bodies closer together.

"Hey Patrick I was- oh fucking hell, you're actually doing this?" Joe groans from the doorway, "I was wondering why your door was already open. Patrick I need some help with this riff."

Patrick pulls away and leans his head around Pete's.

"Oh yeah, I'll just be a second," He leans back to look at Pete, who was following Patrick's face with his gaze, still staring at Patrick's lips while he bit his own, "We're still even. Game on." Patrick grins.

Pete is once again left facing a wall. With a soft rap of his knuckles, he pushes back and saunters out of the room.

"Round three in the morning." He calls as he closes the door.

Joe watches the door close and turns to Patrick, "What the fuck is going on?"

Patrick shrugs, "Tour is boring when you're not on stage, this is just a bit of fun. No harm."

"Sure, no harm."

"No harm," Patrick clicks his tongue and falls silent for a few seconds, "Anyway! This riff."

**

Patrick wakes up groggily, having stayed up til almost dawn, fiddling on GarageBand. He picks up his buzzing phone from the bedside table and presses it against his face.

He's silent for a few seconds before he huffs and barks "What?!" into the mic, his face half pressed into the pillow.

"Morning Trickydoll, you've got a phone interview in 20, get your cute little tush to the bus." Pete hangs up before Patrick can protest, which is how Patrick has found himself sitting at the breakfast table of the bus, sleepy eyes frowning at Pete across from him. Pete just smiles in reply, hands laced together innocently on top of the table.

Patrick is about to open his mouth and curse at Pete, but his phone breaks the silence first. He frowns at Pete one more time before he picks his phone up and puts on his best "I'm totally ready for human interaction" voice.

"Good mor-" He clears his throat as his voice cracks, "Good morning." He directs at the top of the table.

He's listening to the brief of the interview, what they'll ask and how long it'll take (Patrick's heart drops at the mention of 25-30 minutes), when he feels something touch his thigh.

He shakes his leg and looks up at Pete, who is trying to be inconspicuous by looking at the wall of the bus. His hand slides higher. Patrick shakes his leg more vigorously.

"Sounds great to me," Patrick says through a clenched jaw, his free hand now slapping at Pete's grip on his upper thigh, "Yes, yes I'm fine, just uh, trying to plug my phone in." Patrick attempts a laugh which just comes out as more of a grimace.

"Uh, well we started writing this album while we were on the road, just messing around on GarageBand." Patrick explains. Pete smirks and reaches higher to pop the button on Patrick's jeans.

"We- this was a joint ef-effort, could you give me a second?" Patrick stammers, "Pete what the fuck are you doing?!" He whispers harshly. Pete is still undoing Patrick's pants, trying to pull them down without Patrick lifting up.

"Round three." Pete whispers back.

"Round three? _Round three?_ Pete I'm on the fucking phone!"

"Do you give in? Did I win gay chicken?" Pete sits back, retracting his hands.

Patrick stays motionless for a few seconds, snapping out an angry "No." as Pete smiles and reaches back to Patrick's pants.

"Uh, yes sorry Pete just came in and...needed me." Patrick says into the phone. Pete slips his hand into Patrick's pants and frowns at how soft Patrick is. He'll have to change that.

He drops down and knee walks under the table over to Patrick, who is still stammering out responses to the person on the other end of the line, knowing why Pete is down there.

Pete slaps the side of Patrick's thigh, instructing him to lift his hips so his pants can be pulled down. Patrick resists at first, pressing his ass further into the seat, until Pete breathes out a countdown, and Patrick finally lifts his hips.

His pants and boxers are pulls down to his knees, his bare ass hitting the couch. He cringes when he remembers they have two other crew members staying on the bus with them, but quickly forgets the moment Pete wraps his hand around his half hard cock, his tongue licking at the filling out head simultaneously.

"Unh, _fuck,_ " Patrick breathes, blushing in mortification, "Yes! Stubbed my toe!" He yells, trying to make his groans sound pained rather than the overwhelming pleasure he's feeling.

He's almost fully hard, with Pete softly stroking him, his mouth leaving sucking wet kisses up the shaft.

"Yes, a-always writing, always, _oh god,_ always feeling so good." Patrick can't do it anymore, Pete is squeezing his cock, dipping his tongue into the slit every time he pulls back for air.

"I have to- I don't feel well I have to go. We'll reschedule." Patrick promptly hangs up, dropping his phone onto the table carelessly and curling in on himself.

"Surprised you lasted that long." Pete laughs.

"Fuck, not much longer." Patrick breathes. What is the etiquette for blow jobs that are part of a _game_? Can he put his hands in Pete's hair? Can he thrust his hips? Pete answers the first one for him, reaching up blindly and clutching Patrick's hand. Patrick immediately buries it in Pete's hair.

Pete goes faster, faster every time Patrick's fist gets tighter on his scalp. Patrick is barely coherent, this is the best fucking head he's ever had. He's mumbling curses, his eyes rolling about in his skull.

"Pete, Pete. Pete I'm gonna- _oh fuck,_ please I'm coming, I'm coming." Patrick all but screams. He tugs on Pete's hair to pull him off, but Pete just groans in return and makes Patrick come even harder.

Patrick finishes, breathing hard and shivering through the aftershocks. Pete tucks Patrick's softening cock back into his pants, his oversensitive head brushing against the material and making him groan.

"Pete, that- what the fuck was that?" Patrick pants.

_"That_ was me getting one up on you," Pete jumps up, an obvious bulge in his pants. "See ya, Trick."

Patrick is left sprawled on the couch, his dick safely concealed again, but half of his ass still spilling out and pressing against the back of the seat. He grumbles and stands up, throwing himself into his bunk and slapping his hands painfully onto his own face.

This is war.


	2. You Were Too Good To Be True

Patrick corners Pete the next day, dragging him into a toilet in the venue. He pushes Pete up against the locked door, breathing heavy.

"What you did yesterday? _Not cool."_ He snaps. Pete just looks on with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"You enjoyed it."

"Not the point, Pete! I was on the _phone,_ to the _press_. What if they heard? What if they write about it?" Patrick barks out. Pete's expression is unchanged.

"They didn't. You hung up!" Pete reasons.

"After I _moaned_ down the phone at them. I moaned. Oh god someone else knows my sex noises. We can't do this anymore Pete."

"Ha! So I win!" Pete celebrates. He steps back from Patrick and starts doing the oddest thrust/dance thing and Patrick starts shaking.

"No, no you fucking don't." He grabs Pete's hair and forces their mouths together, Pete instantly getting into it and slipping his arms around Patrick's waist.

They move even closer together, their fronts pressed tight. Patrick rolls his hips once, just to see what Pete does, and Pete doesn't disappoint. He slips his hands lower and grips Patrick's ass.

Patrick pulls away from Pete's mouth and whispers out "Round four." Pete chokes on a laugh, then on a moan when Patrick starts placing sucking kisses down his neck, aggressively pulling Pete's collar to the side so he can suck a bruise onto his shoulder.

In a shocking move, Patrick drops to the floor, and wastes no time in undoing Pete's belt, popping the button and pulling the zip down, and swallowing down Pete's entire cock at once.

_"Fuck, fuuuuuck,"_ Pete growls, "You've really never done this?"

Patrick blushes more than he already was. Fuck. No first time cock sucker can deep throat like this. He pulls off and puts on a show of coughing, glancing up with teary eyes. Pete is staring down at him with his mouth wide open.

"Uh, no, I haven't?" Patrick's voice goes up at the end, he coughs and tries again, "No, I haven't." Sweet.

"Well shit, another thing you're naturally good at." Pete smiles. He gently runs his fingers down the side of Patrick's face, runs the pad of his thumb along Patrick's bottom lip, then roughly grips his jaw and brings Patrick's mouth back to his cock.

Patrick swallows him back down, making sure to moan so the vibrations go all the way up Pete's dick, and Pete groans like he's in pain. Patrick looks up again, his eyes watering, and Pete is looking back like Patrick is a prize.

Patrick pulls off, ignoring Pete's protests, and slips two of his fingers into his own mouth. Pete crushes his eyebrows together, his face slowly relaxing as he realises what's going to happen.

"Put your leg over my shoulder," Patrick pants, "Spread."

Pete grits his teeth and spits out a harsh "Fuck," but he does what Patrick asks. Yes, fuck yes he's so ready.

He lifts his leg and carefully balances it on Patrick's shoulder, aware that his legs are heavy as lead. Patrick falters for a second, before he adjusts himself so he's more stable. Pete stares down dumbly, completely speechless that Patrick, _his Patrick,_ his innocent little vocalist who blushes at anything above the knee, is sucking his cock like a champ and about to finger him.

Pete feels the first touch of a cold, damp finger to his hole, his body tensing and goosebumps popping up all over him.

"Oh god," Pete groans, "Do it, please."

Patrick complies, pushing his finger all the way in til he's buried deep in Pete. He distracts Pete from the slight burning pain by sucking him in again, pulling back to twist his tongue around the head.

He starts moving his finger in and out slowly, getting Pete used to it, before he pulls his finger completely out and shoves two in with no warning.

Pete yells at the ceiling, panting and rolling his hips to get Patrick's fingers deeper. Patrick complies, burying his fingers deeper and crooking them slightly to hit that spot Patrick _knows_ will have Pete screaming.

And, fuck, does he scream.

"Patrick, FUCK! Patrick, please _pleaseplease_ , suck me harder make me come." Pete begs.

"Mm," Patrick pulls off, "Love how you sound when you beg. Beg to come." Patrick goes back down on Pete, sucking hard and deep throating Pete's cock til he hears Pete let out a sob.

"Oh god," Pete babbles, his voice breaking as Patrick rubs his fingers roughly against Pete's prostate, "Please I need to come, you're so good, you make me feel amazing. Fuck, I'm gonna- I'm com-" Pete breaks off on a half scream, half sob.

Patrick keeps Pete deep in his mouth, swallowing the rush of bitter liquid as it shoots out. He softly sucks Pete to bring him down, taking his fingers out slowly and pulling off to look up at Pete.

Pete has his hands up at his face, muffling the light sobs. Patrick can see his chest hiccuping, so he stands up and pulls Pete in for a hug.

Pete immediately wraps his arms around Patrick, burying his face into his neck and sniffling away the last of his tears.

"Hey, you good?" Patrick whispers. Pete pulls away and looks at Patrick with soft eyes. God, he's beautiful, what is Patrick doing? Before Pete can answer, Patrick cups one cheek lightly and brings their lips together. This kiss isn't passionate or dirty like the rest have been, it's sweet, _so raw and real._ It hits Patrick like a punch to his chest and he pulls away abruptly.

"Uh, yeah. I look forward to round five." Patrick stammers, stepping back and adjusting himself in his pants, he whimpers quietly and Pete steps forward to grip Patrick's wrists.

"Let me," Pete whispers, "game aside."

Patrick's stomach drops and he shakes Pete's hands off, turning to unlock the door and sprint back to the bus.

Instead of going to the bus he shares with Pete, he runs to Joe and Andy's, banging on the door continuously until Joe answers. He takes one look at Patrick's red face, cheeks sticky with tears and his body shaking with barely concealed sobs.

Joe whispers, "Fuck Patrick," and looks around the parking lot before pulling Patrick into a hug, closing the door as Patrick starts wailing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this chapter was written while I was in a disgusting mood, so it's a little more authentic. I suffer for my art okay? (I was sad because I was hungry) 
> 
> chapter 3 may even be up by the end of today! 
> 
> also I have another fic I've been writing for months, it's not even that long I just got lazy with it, but it'll be up soon.


	3. I Only Want Sympathy In The Form Of You Crawling Into Bed With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm sorry I lied and I didn't post a chapter daily, I suffer with migraines and hooohh this weekend has been a doozy.   
> But I'm back with the angst, no smut this chapter, probably none in the next either, but there will be smut again soon! 
> 
> I'm sorry if this is absolutely abysmal!  
> Love you all!

Joe held Patrick til his sobs reduced to whimpers, and his whimpers reduced to sniffles. Joe had rocked him back and forth while he cried, rubbing his back and shushing his choked weeping.

Patrick sits up, his head swimming thickly after crying for so long, his body feeling heavy and exhausted.

"Can I uh, can I bunk in here tonight?" Patrick asks, his head bowed down to his chest, "I just can't be on my bus right now."

"Sure, you can take the back bedroom for tonight. Do you- should we talk about what happened?"

"He asked for things Joe, he said _"game aside"._ I've hidden my feelings from him so so long, I can't let them come up just because Pete is feeling impulsive." Patrick whispers.

"Isn't that what you want? You don't want it to be a game. I saw the look on your face at the hotel." Joe pulls his mouth to one side, his eyebrows pushed together in contemplation.

"You- you know?" Patrick is horrified. He's not ashamed of being gay, far from it. He knows it isn't wrong, but he's never said anything, he's never felt a need to _come out_ about something that's so normal to him. And the topic never came up, until a few days ago in the dressing room and Pete's declaration of sexuality.

"I mean, I never really gave it much thought. You're just Patrick, I never really think about who my friends wanna bone." Joe smiles. Patrick chuckles weakly, he's so lucky to have understanding friends.

"I think I just need to sleep, my head isn't screwed on quite right."

"Absolutely dude, you want me to go get anything from your bus?"

Patrick wonders if that's a good idea, he's not angry at Pete, he's just scared. But he's worried that Joe going onto the bus and taking some of Patrick's things will make Pete think he isn't coming back.

"No, it's okay. I'm actually tired enough to go to sleep right away, for once." Patrick stands and stumbles to the back room, kicking off his shoes and immediately falling into a deep sleep.

**

Fuck, _fuck_.

"FUCK!" Pete screams. He picks up the closest thing to him, a mug, and launches his from the kitchenette to the door on the other side of the bunks. It hits the door with a loud thump, the handle snapping off and slitting across the floor as the rest of the mug lands on the floor and cracks in half.

Pete looks at the broken pieces on the floor, some sick part of him wanting to laugh at how much he relates, but his face drops. Did he- is that Patrick's mug?

He looks back at the counter, realising the two almost identical puppy mugs aren't there, instead it's just Pete's. His has a puppy in a hat, Patrick's was a puppy in a coat.

"No, no no no, NO!" He wails, running over to the broken pieces and gathering them up in his arms.

"Pete-" Andy starts.

"Look- look, look what I did. Look what I did to his mug. He loves this mug, he said every drink tastes better in this mug and I ruined it, I _ruined_ it." Pete stammers, fumbling the broken pieces in his hand.

"Pete, _Pete!_ Stop, you're gonna hurt yourself." Andy warns. He takes the broken pieces and places them on the counter, Pete's gaze following every movement.

"Can it be fixed?"

"Yeah, a little glue. No problem."

"No-" Pete takes a deep breath, "Me and Patrick, can it be fixed?"

"Of course it can, maybe just sleep on it tonight, give each other some space. This whole game of yours was a bit silly, huh?" Andy smiles sympathetically.

Pete laughs dejected, "You can say that again. Of course I'd be the one to fall in love with a straight guy. I was being selfish, I wanted more, I thought I could change his mind." Pete hangs his head. He feels so guilty. He was getting what he always wanted, he was getting Patrick _intimately_ and instead of just taking that and settling, he pushed and pushed. He's finally pushed his luck too far. He should come clean to Patrick.

"I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna come clean in the morning." Pete stands up and takes a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before he exhales loudly.

"Yeah buddy, get some sleep, you need the rest." Andy pulls Pete in for a hug, holding him for a few seconds longer than he usually would when Pete leans into him and sighs.

Pete pulls away and gives Andy a small smile.

"You're the best of the best, Hurley."

"So are you, Pete. It'll all work out."

**

Patrick wakes up with the driest mouth mankind has ever known, he'd love some fresh coffee in his puppy mug. He's about to shout for Pete to bring him some when he realises. This isn't his bus. He flops back down and groans, covering his face with his hands. Before he can start cursing every human who ever lived, Joe knocks on the flimsy partition door.

"Patrick? I got you some coffee." He half whispers.

"Yeah uh, yeah come in." Patrick sits up and pulls the blanket up around his naked torso. Joe hands him the mug carefully, watching as Patrick takes a sip.

"S'good." Patrick compliments with a smile. It _is_ good, but it'd be _better_ in his puppy mug.

"So, you wanna talk now?" Joe asks. Patrick takes a too big gulp and chokes on the hot liquid, while Joe rushes over and slaps weakly on Patrick's bare back.

"I'm good," Patrick coughs. His tongue feels burnt, "Yeah we should talk about it."

"Okay, so you're gay," Patrick nods yes, "But Pete doesn't know, and you wanted to prove you're straight and comfortable with it by engaging in sexual acts with another man?"

Patrick stares at a spot on the way behind Joe. Well, when he puts it like that, Patrick can see how fucking stupid this entire idea was. But Pete is just as bad! He's straight too!

"I guess. Yeah, that's about right," Patrick grimaces, "But Pete was the one to start it, I just panicked."

"Listen I never said Pete was smart."

They both laugh, the tension seeming to have left now that Patrick has cleared his head.

There's a loud bang outside the door, followed by a string of muffled curses and then the main door swinging closed with a creak.

Patrick stares at Joe.

"I hope that was Andy." Patrick says, but he _knows_ it wasn't. Andy would never fall down and curse, he's too graceful. And Patrick has heard that same _shitshitgodfuckingdamnit_ enough times to know who it belongs to. Which means he was outside the door. Which means he heard all of that.

**

Pete wakes up, groaning loudly as he stretches. He drops his arms like like a dead weight back onto the bad, huffing up at the ceiling.

He lifts his head and glances around his small bunk, hearing the light snores of Andy in the spare bunk above him. He stares through the gap in the curtain at Patrick's empty bunk, his heart feeling as heavy as lead.

Should he go over there and speak to Patrick before Joe and Andy wake up? He chews his lip, deciding whether it's a good idea, Patrick just left him, is he angry? Is he upset? Fuck, Pete took it too fucking far.

Before he realises what he's doing, he's in Joe and Andy's bus, standing at the thin door to the back bedroom.

"Okay, so you're gay," Pete hears through the weak barrier, "But Pete doesn't know, and you wanted to prove you're straight and comfortable with it by engaging in sexual acts with another man?"

There's silence for a few seconds, all Pete can hear is the pounding of his heart, beating hard against his ribcage. Just as he opens his mouth to breathe in a long, silent breath, he hears Patrick's timid voice.

"I guess. Yeah, that's about right, but Pete was the one to start it, I just panicked."

Pete goes light headed, his eyes losing focus and his lungs seizing up. He distantly hears his name mentioned again before he falls back into a bunk, hitting his shoulders in a broad line and cursing loudly before he can catch himself.

_"Shitshitgodfuckingdamnit."_

He throws himself off the bus and stumbles to his own, slipping on the gravel a few times and scraping his knees through his _artfully_ ripped pants.

By the time he gets back to his bus, Andy is awake and carefully gluing Patrick's mug back together.

"Oh you're back, I started on- Pete?" Andy cuts himself off, "Fuck, what happened?"

Pete is on his knees just inside the door, which caught on his feet before it could close all the way, and he's breathing in gulping breaths. Andy can see Pete's entire body trembling, his fists clenched against the scratchy doormat.

"Pete, talk to me."

"He's- He's, Andy, he's been lying this whole time. He's gay, he's gay." Pete stops to breathe in shakily again, it feels like he can't get oxygen, he can barely hear anything over the buzzing in his head, his skin is seemingly crawling and his eyes feel like they're about to pop out of his head.

"Pete, Pete, breathe with me," Andy places his hand on Pete's back, "in, count to five, and then out." Andy pushes on Pete's back when it's time to breathe out, then lets up when he needs to breathe in.

Pete gets into a rhythm, his body falling quiet as his lungs learn to take in air again. He sits back on his feet.

"He's gay, and he didn't tell me." Pete says sadly.

"But, you didn't tell him," Andy says quietly, rubbing his hand across Pete's back, "It seems like a break down in communication here."

Pete contemplates it for a minute, Andy is right. Pete shouldn't have started this, he should have never been so selfish. He really needs to speak to Patrick, but he's so ashamed of himself.

Just as Pete is about to stand up, he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

"Um, hey. Can we talk?"

Pete turns slowly, his mouth hanging open. Their eyes meet, and as if on cue, Pete's eyes fill with tears.

"Patrick." He croaks.


	4. You Have To Prove Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello! I'm so sorry, I moved house and I've had no Internet. But I'm back for now and hopefully I'll be able to post a bit more this week. 
> 
> This chapter is kinda sad so strap the heck in. 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are super appreciated, it makes me feel like I'm actually doing well. Love you all!

Pete sits, chewing his thumbnail and bouncing his knee. Patrick mirrors his position, but instead of chewing his nail, his fist is buried tightly in his hair. Andy stands against the kitchenette counter, his eyes flicking between the two trembling men. He rolls his eyes and pushes himself upright.

"Okay, I'm leaving," He announces, he slips his hands into his pockets and walking slowly over to the door, "Pete, text me if you need anything."

What about _me?_ Patrick wants to snap. He bites his lips harder, feeling the delicate skin on his dry lips split, a rich iron taste filling his mouth.

Pete nods dejectdly, staring at the floor as Andy closes the door.

"Pete-" Patrick's voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak, "Pete, are you oka-"

"Why didn't you just fucking tell me?" Pete spits. Patrick pales.

"T-tell you what?"

"You're fucking _gay?!"_

"Pete, listen, I'm sorry I didn't say anything-" Patrick starts. Pete jumps to his feet and stands above Patrick, his demeanour intimidating. He watches Patrick's throat tense, his Adam's apple bobbing with a harsh click.

"You _lied_ to me. Was it just a fucking joke? 'Let's see how much I can make Pete fall for me before I drop him'? Well ha-fucking-ha, you did good." Pete explodes, he slams him palm into the wall above Patrick's head.

"Hey, fuck you! That's not what this was." Patrick stand and pushes Pete back by his shoulders.

Pete stumbles into the counter, his hip connects with and muffled thump. He grabs his side as the sharp pain rings through his body. He whips his head up to glare at Patrick, disbelief radiating from every pore.

"What the fuck, Patrick?" Pete yells, he takes note of Patrick's pale face as he stomps towards him, dead set on pushing him back. He's 12 years old and he doesn't fucking care.

Patrick shakes his head and let's out out weak "Nooo" as Pete slams his palms into Patrick's chest, his wrists locked and painful. Patrick yelps and stumbles back, his calf clipping the soft corner of the bench as he loses his balance and lands on his ass.

Pete takes the opportunity to jump on top of Patrick and hold him down, with one hand on each wrist and his legs locking around Patrick's hips.

"Why did you _lie!?"_ Pete screams, spit flying out of his mouth and landing on the lens of Patrick's glasses, the eyes behind them wide with fear.

"P-Pete, you're hurting me." Patrick whimpers. He attempts to lift his hands to protect himself, but Pete just growls and slams them back down. Patrick let's out a sob as his knuckles make contact with the hard floor. His eyes fill with tears and spill down his cheeks.

Pete stares down at Patrick, he watches at the tears drip onto the floor, his own eyes filling and dripping onto Patrick's face.

"I'm sorry," Patrick whimpers, "I'm sorry, please let go, you're hurting me." He chokes on on a sob. Pete releases the hold he has on Patrick's wrists, slumping back on his thighs. Patrick leans up on his elbows and rubs his wrists, his bottom lip wobbles with barely contained cries.

"Why?" Pete whispers.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit, why?"

"Pete-"

"Why?" Pete demands forcefully. He leans back over Patrick and places his hands on either side of Patrick's head.

"Because I'm scared!" Patrick screams, trying to push Pete off. Pete locks his legs tighter, narrowing his eyes.

"Scared of what?!"

"Get off me!" Patrick pants. He pushes at Pete again, succeeding in toppling Pete over and reversing their positions. Pete stares up, his face flushed in anger.

While Patrick growls out curses down at him, Pete is hoping Patrick doesn't sit down any further, his cock is hardening under his sweats. His wish isn't granted, Patrick finishes his rant and slumps backwards, his ass making contact with Pete's lap.

Pete tries to keep in the groan, but it slips out and Patrick sputters in disbelief.

"I can't fucking believe you." Patrick laughs.

Pete prepares an apology in his head, opening his mouth to weakly stammer it out, but before any words can leave his parted lips, Patrick smashes his lips into Pete's.

Patrick's hand instantly finds it's way into Pete's sleep messy hair, his fingers slip in the sweaty strands. Pete growls and bites Patrick's lip, licking over the mark to sooth it. Patrick gives just as good back, he grinds his hips into Pete's, both of them gasping into each others mouths. Nothing about this is sweet, they're practically attacking each other as their clothes cocks slide together, making Patrick's eyes roll back into his head.

Pete reaches down and grabs Patrick's ass, leading his thrusts to be longer and harder, and Pete feels the head of his now rock hard member slip out of waistband of his sweats. Patrick's sleep shirt has slipped up, revealing a strip of warm pale skin, which slides against the damp head of Pete's dick.

"Patrick." Pete gasps.

Patrick looks down at Pete, he looks like a fucking animal. His eyes are shot, his hair sticking up at all angles, sweat beading along his hairline, his top lip, gathering in the dip of Pete's throat and collarbones. Patrick leans down and licks it away, biting down on the skin afterwards and revelling in Pete's pained whimper.

Pete grips Patrick's ass harder and snaps his hips up, finally supplying more friction and bringing them both so much closer to their release.

Patrick pulls Pete's head up slightly and kisses his forehead softly, the first thing he's done that doesn't feel like he's trying to kill Pete.

Pete whimpers and tears gather in his eyes. He circles his hips and his breathing picks up, he's so close, he's _so close._

He must voice this out loud because Patrick groans, "Me too." and presses his face into Pete's neck as his body starts trembling with his orgasm.

Pete isn't far behind, his hips lift of the ground as he pulls Patrick down hard onto his crotch, coming onto Patrick's stomach and coating his own too. Patrick moans on every exhale, slipping his free hand into Pete's and linking their fingers together.

They lay there in silence for a while, both coming down slowly. Patrick sits up first, wrinkling his nose at the now drying come on his shirt and stomach.

Pete lifts a hand to brush across Patrick's cheek, opening his mouth to blurt out every good thing he feels. But Patrick gets there first.

"Why does this keep happening?" He sighs. Pete looks at him in confusion.

"What?" Pete's still orgasm stupid, his brain struggling to catch up. He always needs at least 10 minutes to work things out.

"Why? Why can't I be around you without this happening anymore?"

"I'm not complaining." Pete laughs weakly. Patrick snaps his head up and glares at Pete.

"This isn't a joke."

Pete tilts his head and chews his lip. Pete hasn't come in his pants since he was 17, he's sure Patrick hasn't either. What's going on?

"Pete, you just _held me_ to the ground. You scared me."

Patrick stands up and stumbles to the front of the bus, leaving Pete to scramble to his feet dumbly.

"You pushed me first! We had a fight, we resolved it with sex! What's the big deal?" Pete fumes.

"The _big deal_ is that I was upset, we were both upset and you hurt me!" Patrick's voice wavers and his eyes fill with tears again.

Pete takes a step forward, "Baby, I'm sorry. We were both running hot. We're both confused." He tries to put his arms around Patrick, who squirms away and presses himself against the wall.

"I think we need to stay away from each other." He blurts.

Pete stops. His arms drop to his sides.

"W-what?"

"I'll, I'll take my things and stay with Joe. You stay here with Andy. We need to not be around each other right now." Patrick explains. He breathes in and out choppily.

"Patrick, no, please-"

"We'll take a few days and then talk when we're not so emotional." Patrick ignores Pete, his eyes are closed and his fists are clenched at his sides.

Pete tries to step forward again, but Patrick pushes past him violently and sends him sprawling over the table top. Tears start dropping from Pete's eyes in fat globs, he turns his head to towards Patrick to see him in a similar state. Pete's heart aches with the need to comfort his best friend, the man he lov-

No, no. Don't do this to yourself Pete.

"Okay," Pete chokes, "Can I, please, can I just hug you before you go?"

Patrick doesn't look at Pete, just nods his head and leans into Pete's chest with a sob. They're both crying into each other's bodies, holding tight and both hoping it doesn't end.

Pete kisses the side of Patrick's head and pulls away, sniffing loudly and moving into the back room so Patrick can pack some things and leave in peace.

He flops down onto the unmade bed and notices one of Patrick's shirts half stuff down the side. He pulls it out and flattens the creases as he smooths it over his pillow.

He can hear Patrick moving around quietly as he presses his face into the dirty shirt and breathes in deeply. He starts crying again, holding back until he hears Patrick close the door behind himself and then he really lets go.

He heaves great, ugly sobs into the green shirt, soaking it with salty tears quickly and biting on his knuckles to stop himself from screaming.

Patrick walks onto Joe and Andy's bus, his body shaking with repressed sobs as Joe scrambles to his feet and pulls Patrick into himself.

Andy silently nods at Joe and leaves them alone, walking over to Patrick and Pete's bus. He can hear Pete before he even gets to the back bedroom, slipping off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. Pete turns and presses his face into Andy 's chest, holding Patrick's spoiled shirt to his own.

"I love him." Pete sobs quietly.

"I know, and he loves you. But you both need time." Andy whispers back. He holds Pete until his cries slow down, his breathing evening out and signalling that he's fallen asleep. Andy leans himself back and turns off the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness and holding Pete tighter as he whimpers.

It's going to be a long week.


	5. I Wanna Sleep On Every Piece of Fuzz, and Stuffing That Comes Out of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM THE WORST AT UPDATING.   
> I'm so sorry, I wrote and the deleted and then wrote this chapter again at least 10 times. I just couldn't get it the way I wanted it?   
> But here it is, please yell at me if it's terrible, I give you permission. Similarly, you can comment and tell me I'm doing good so I don't feel so bad about it. 
> 
> I love everyone who is still reading, thank you so much. I'm tired.

"Pete, _fucking hell_ you stink, get out of bed." Joe kicks the thin mattress of the bunk Pete has stuffed himself into, just below where Pete's ass hangs off.

"Mmph, leb me alob." Pete mutters into the pillow. _Andy's_ pillow to be exact. Pete stank up every other pillow in the bus, even when Andy made a run back to his own and grabbed _his_ pillow from _his_ bunk, and _then hid_ the pillow under bags and gear, Pete found it and rubbed his grubby face and greasy hair all over it.

"Okay pillow princess," Joe smirks, he kicks the bunk once more, "If you don't leave the bunk and shower, and I mean _soap_ in _all_ the crevices, Charlie is going to force you to wash."

Pete lifts his head at that.

"He can't. He can't man handle me, I'll yell, I'll scream and people will come save me, I'm a _princess_ you said so yourself, leave me alo-" Joe steps aside and Charlie steps into view, his arms outstretched and his fingers wiggling in Pete's direction.

Pete stares into Charlie's eyes for approximately 3 seconds before he decides, he really doesn't want to be lifted over Charlie's shoulder and stuffed into a cold shower. _Again._

"Fine I'll do it! But because _I_ want to, not you guys," Pete squints his eyes at Joe and Charlie's disbelieving expressions. Screw those guys. "Can't a guy smell in his own residence?" Pete leans forward smugly.

"This isn't _your_ residence. You stole a crew members bunk because even you can't stand your own stench," Joe points out. "The back bedroom was your residence, no one bothered you in there."

Pete stands frozen, half leaning toward Joe and half getting ready to bolt once he throws the bag of cereal he's been eyeing up right at Joe's stupid curly head. He straightens himself up and reaches out to grab the bag when Charlie snatches up Pete's hand.

"Nope."

"Fine." Pete stomps his foot like a petulant child. "I'm _leaving_. Joe you shouldn't even be here, this is temporarily mine and _Andy's_ bus." Pete raises an eyebrow in Joe's direction as he turns to gather up his shower things.

"Andy asked for my help! You smell like a barn!" Joe yells through the thin door to the shower.

God, Pete really did look like shit. His hair is so greasy it's started curling back up, right to his scalp. His unshaven face makes him look like Tom Hanks in Castaway, the size of the bags under his eyes rival his suitcase. Jesus, he has a pimple. A big one, right on his forehead above his left eyebrow.

He gets undressed and looks at the rest of himself in the small mirror. His skin is a weird pale gray, instead of the rich honey it usually is. He looks...saggy. He shivers at his reflection and turns on the shitty shower they have in the bus, how does Joe expect him to get clean in _this?_ The pressure was akin to someone dribbling tepid water from the corner of their mouth.

He steps in, his skin rolling as the lukewarm water travels down his aching muscles. The water warms up the longer he spends in there, the pressure increasing too. Soon, the water is hammering down on Pete, like tiny daggers into his skin. He groans, maybe he really did need this.

He soaps his body up, the steam in the small cubicle clearing his head and settling his thoughts. Enough moping, he's gonna clean himself til he's _shining,_ then he's gonna clean everyone's blankets and replace all the stale pillows he's sweat and dribbled on over the course of the week. Then he's gonna eat something other than leftover pizza (Marcus'), stolen poptarts (Charlie's), the 6 pack of coke (some new, unsuspecting crew boy).

Fuck yeah, he's got this.

He _scrubs_ himself til he's red raw and then he dries himself slowly and thoroughly, wrapping the damp towel low around his hips and leaving the bathroom.

He makes his way to the back bedroom to strip the bed and then goes to the communal area to offer penance to all current residents of bus two.

His hands full of gross sheets, he stumbles into the kitchenette.

"Joe I'm so-" Pete cuts himself off, Joe isn't there. It's- it's Patrick.

"Hey, Pete." Patrick half smiles.

Pete pales, dropping the sheets and knocking the towel down as they fall. Great, like this couldn't get _any_ worse, now he's naked and afraid.

Patrick flicks his eyes down to Pete's bare crotch and then drops his gaze down to his own feet, chewing his lip. He moves his body like he's about to step forward but stops himself and step back instead, creating more space between them.

"Look, I don't want there to be this weird tension on stage, it's been there all week. I- I still need to think about things, but," he stops and lifts his head to smile at Pete again, "I don't hate you."

Pete lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Can I uh, get clothes? I feel kind of...exposed." He chuckles. Patrick nods and shifts on his feet, staring down at the floor again.

Pete turns and half runs to his bedroom once again, picking up and sniffing shirts and boxers until he comes across a pair that don't make his eyes water.

When he returns to the kitchenette, Patrick his sitting down with his legs crossed, stretched laguidly while his thumbs tap on his phone.

"Uh, coffee?" Pete asks, his back is turned to Patrick and he feels kinda like prey.

"No thanks, I gotta go meet someone. The guitar tech from last night wants to show me this guitar place." Patrick stands and walks the three steps over to Pete.

"Oh, sure. That's- sure." Pete replies. He drops the spoon into the cup with a loud click, making him jump.

"You owe me a puppy mug."

"Shit, I do don't I?"

They both laugh and Patrick steps closer to wrap his arms around Pete's shoulders. He's so warm, he's always so warm and comfortable. Pete belatedly hugs him back and pulls back to look at Patrick's face.

"Thank you, it means a lot for you to come and settle my mind." Pete whispers. Patrick's eyes are closed, his face soft. Pete leans forward and presses a light kiss to Patrick's forehead, it lasts longer than he intended but Patrick doesn't pull away. He allows Pete to indulge himself, and for around 15 second Pete stands there with his arms around Patrick's waist and his lips against his forehead.

He pulls away and smiles at Patrick, whose eyes are still closed but he's smiling. Pete smiles harder and steps back.

Patrick finally opens his eyes and clears his throat.

"I better get going, uh, see you tonight."

Pete nods and watches as Patrick leaves the bus. His shoulders slump the second the door closes and he grumbles wordlessly to himself.

He kicks the floor a few times just to hear it squeak and then flops onto the couch.

"Who was that?" Joe steps out of the shower room, shaking his giant hair like a dog, flicking water all over the place.

"Patrick." Pete mumbles.

"Did you hump on any of my things?"

"Fuck off Troh. He came over to tell me he doesn't hate me." Pete says into his hands.

"So why are you acting like he came over and killed your parents?" Joe stands right in front of Pete, who glances up. His face is in line with Joe's clothed crotch. Should he?

He does.

"What the fuck Pete?" Joe recoils with his hands clutching his dick.

"That's for fucking kicking me this morning! AND for calling me a pillow princess. You've never had the privilege to find out how I fuck!" Pete narrows his eyes at Joe as he jumps to his feet.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Pillow princess...I just made that up. You were laying bed and acting like a girl!" Joe winces.

Pete laughs hysterically, over reacting when he bends over and clutches his stomach.

"Joe- no, oh my god," Pete starts roaring with laughter again, "That's- no, pillow princess is someone who just lays there when they're fucking." Pete struggles to get out.

"Oh shit. I've been calling everyone a pillow princess for _days._ I thought I was being original." Joe groans and throws himself to the floor, spreading out and groaning into the scratchy carpet near the door.

"You are one goofy motherfucker, Joseph." Pete giggles.

Joe groans into the floor again.

**

Pete holds up his end of the deal with Patrick. At the show, he stays to his side, but not _too_ much, he presses himself against Patrick, but not _too_ much.

Not once does Patrick glare at him, or elbow him away. In fact he smiles at Pete a few times, nodding along to lyrics as he grins. Pete grins back and hops up and down a few times. This could work. It's all going so well.

That is, until Dance, Dance.

Patrick flicks his eyes over to Pete during the line _"crawling into bed with me",_ and bites his lip with a wink be for he belts out the next line.

Pete's hands feel stupid and heavy and he can't remember any chords. He's just playing from muscle memory, his brain entirely focused on the way Patrick's lip looked with teeth marks in it.

He gets through the rest of the show with his bass pressed tight against his body, hiding his erection. They've all been hard on stage, it's normal when you're totally into it and you can feel the music in every part of your body, but it's been _years_ since Pete got hard on stage because of Patrick. He thought he had that under control.

He stumbles off stage and gulps half a bottle of water, pouring the rest over his head in an attempt to shock his body and make his boner fuck off already.

He feels someone press up behind him.

"Good show." Patrick whispers into Pete's ear. Pete whimpers in response and tries to turn around.

"Uh uh, face front," Patrick continues whispering, "You looked so good, Pete. Could barely concentrate. I saw how your bass was pressed against you."

"Patrick-"

"I'm not done. I'm coming back to the bus tonight. Make sure the back bedroom is clear." Patrick grips Pete's ass roughly before turning and walking away, leaving Pete in the hallway of the venue, his dick still hard.

"Motherfucker." Pete curses to no one but himself.

**

Pete stumbles back onto their bus 30 minutes later, finally no longer hard. He just wants to change and get in his bed.

He's completely forgotten about Patrick by this point, still assuming Joe would be on his bus tonight, meaning he had an hour or so to himself while Joe was outside smoking and socialising.

He slides the door to the back bedroom open to find Patrick sitting on the edge of his bed, his leg bouncing up and down and his fingers laced together in his lap.

"Trick?"

"Oh! Pete. You're back!" Patrick smiles. What the fuck is going on?

"Why uh, why are you on my bed?" Pete asks dumbly.

Patrick stands up and crowds into Pete's space immediately.

"Talking later." Is all he says before he smashes his mouth into Pete's. Pete groans and grips Patrick's waist, fuck how he's missed the feel of Patrick's soft lips. The taste of him, like nothing else he's ever had the pleasure of tasting.

Patrick whines and presses closer, reaching around and slipping both hands into Pete's back pockets, squeezing hard. Pete yelps like a puppy, and feels Patrick grin against his mouth.

"God, I love your ass." Patrick mumbles into Pete's lips. Pete tenses at the L-word. God, it wasn't even directed at _him!_ Just his ass, which, okay. It's pretty fine.

"Patrick, Patrick- mmmph, Patrick stop a second!" Pete pulls Patrick away by shoulders.

"What?"

"Why do you keep doing this?" Pete says, he looks down at the floor sadly. Patrick leans forward and presses his cheek against Pete's chest.

"I love you." He mumbles.

Pete didn't quite catch that.

"Uh, could you say that again?" Patrick pulls back and looks Pete directly in the eyes.

"I, uh, love you?"

Pete stands there staring at Patrick, his entire body locked down. He can feel his heart beating rapidly, fuck, he can _hear_ it. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water until Patrick puts a hand on his cheek.

"Say something. Please." His voice is shaking.

"Patrick I can't-" Pete starts. Patrick lets out a soft sob and steps back.

"No, no that's okay. I'm, yeah. You could do way better than me. I need to leave-" Patrick turns and scrambles for the exit, but Pete grips his wrist and pulls him back against his chest.

"Shh, oh god, no baby. No, I was going to say I can't believe you, of all people, could love me." Pete lifts Patrick's head up to his with both hands, taking in the sparkling ocean blue eyes, lined with tears that have started running down his soft porcelain cheeks. He never wants to make Patrick cry, fuck, he feels terrible.

"Are you kidding? Pete, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way millions of people see you," Patrick rises up onto his tiptoes to press kisses all over Pete's face, "You're so kind, so loving, beautiful, accepting, your smile makes my heart stop, I could stand here for hours and talk about how much I love you."

Pete doesn't waste a second, he kisses Patrick hard, thrusting his tongue into the others mouth when it opens on a whine. He lifts Patrick up and urges him to wrap his legs around his waist.

Pete sits down on his bed and pulls Patrick closer by his ass, feeling the beginnings of hardness in Patrick's jeans. He rocks his hips up to meet him and is rewarded by a crackle of pleasure up his spine.

Pete growls and flips them around, his feet firmly on the floor as he leans over Patrick on the bed, grinding their hips together. Patrick pulls away from the kiss and tip his head back, panting, and releases a loud moan when Pete starts leaving kisses and soft bites up the column of his milky neck.

"I love you, I love you too. I fucking love you so much." Pete whispers into Patrick's skin.

"Pete."

"Not gonna last- I can't, come with me baby, come on." Pete kisses Patrick again, swallowing the groan as Patrick's body stiffens and he comes in his pants, Pete following quickly after.

Patrick lays boneless as Pete takes off his shoes, unbuttons his pants and pulls them down with his underwear, and then leaves the room.

Patrick is about to sit up and call for him when he returns with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

"Lay down, baby. Let me clean you up." Pete whispers. Patrick whimpers and nods, falling back onto the bed with a contented smile.

Pete wipes Patrick down, cleaning off the half dried come and urging him to stand for just a second while he rips the covers back and then tucks Patrick in.

"Drink this, I'm gonna go clean up and I'll be back." Pete instructs. He kisses Patrick on the forehead and leaves again. Patrick takes short sips of the water and snuggles closer into the bed, it smells wholly of Pete. He sighs softly and smiles as Pete re-enters once more, completely naked.

Patrick scoots over and lifts the corner of the comforter so Pete can slide in, and then rests his head on Pete's softly rising and falling chest.

"I love you." Pete mumbles into Patrick's hair.

"I love you, too."


	6. I Know It's Just A Number, But You're The 8th Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! I'm genuinely sorry I haven't updated sooner. I've been too stressed with a lot of things in my life, it's been difficult to focus on writing. 
> 
> I'll be working with the lovely flax_wench sometime soon, when she's finish with Heirs (read tf out of that by the way) and we'll be writing a long one together. So keep a lookout for that. 
> 
> Love you all, thank you for reading and sticking around even when I've been the worse at updates. 
> 
> Kudos and comments keep me going!

The next morning brought sweltering heat. From the crack in the thin back bedroom curtains and the furnace Pete was snuggled up against. He panics for second, not remembering bringing anyone to bed, but his brain clicks in place and he smiles contentedly.

Patrick hums softly and burrows closer into Pete's chest, his breathing evening out once more as he settles back into sleep. Pete can't help but to watch his soft angelic face. His eyes twitching rapidly as he dreams, his cheeks dusted with a soft blush no doubt from the intense heat they're both generating, and his mouth slightly open as if he's waiting to receive a chaste kiss. So Pete takes the chance to do that very thing.

He brushes his lips against Patrick's and holds it for a few seconds, pulling back to see a small smile twitch onto Patrick's face. Patrick is still asleep with his stupidly cute sleep smile when Pete leans back in and kisses him again.

Patrick hums and stirs, breathing in through his nose sharply and lifting his hand to ran his fingers across Pete's shoulder.

"Mmm," Patrick hums, pulling back, "Morning." His eyes are still closed, but his smile and grown wider.

"Morning, baby. You sleep okay?" Pete whispers. He lifts his hand to run through Patrick's hair, biting his lip to hide his smile as Patrick leans into it.

"So good, better than I have this entire tour."

"Me too, it just felt so right for you to be curled into me, why did we take so long?"

Patrick finally opens his eyes, squinting until he focuses on Pete. His eyes are still sleep heavy and he looks beautiful, his mussed hair and flushed skin reminding Pete of the dorky kid he first fell in love with.

"God, I don't know. It hurt so much, to be away from you this past week. It felt like I ached for you." Patrick mumbled the last part and looked away from Pete's face, embarrassed. Pete slid his hand down Patrick's cheek and lifted his chin.

"I'm not going _anywhere,_ not anymore. We're doing this. We're throwing ourselves in headfirst. I love you, Patrick. I've loved you since you opened that door in the ugly sweater and weird shorts. I've loved you at your heaviest and thinnest, your saddest, happiest, when you've been so angry and me you've wanted to kill me. I loved you through the break, _I love you."_

Patrick bites his lip to conceal a whimper as his glossy eyes spills tears down his cheeks.

"I love you too. God, fuck, I love you so much." Patrick chokes out, throwing the covers off and pushing himself up to straddle Pete. Pete looks up at Patrick, his soft tummy and his thick thighs, his quickly hardening cock resting just above Pete's own.

He rubs his hands along the side of Patrick's thighs, feeling the soft hair disappear as he reaches back and cups Patrick's ass.

"Do you know how hard it's been? For more than ten years, just looking and knowing I can't touch?" Pete breathes, squeezing the soft skin and bucking his hips.

Patrick whines and bites his lip, pushing back into Pete's wandering hands. Pete sits up to kiss across Patrick's chest, sucking a peaked nipple into his mouth and smiling at the growl in Patrick's chest.

"Please, please Pete," Patrick whines again, "Do something. Touch me." He guides Pete's hand to his cock, wrapping his fingers around and moving it up and down.

"I don't know, I love seeing you all needy and slutty," Pete tightens his hand and moves faster, Patrick throws his head back and moans on each pull of his cock, "You're all flushed, you're so hard and wet, I bet I could get you off like this and you'd still want more."

"Yes, more-" Patrick breaks off to pant and writhe, " _please."_

"You wanna come now or when I'm inside you?" Pete gives Patrick the choice, slowly his hand down to let the guy concentrate. Patrick gulps down air and opens his eyes.

"I can come again. Just do it now, I'll come again."

Pete growls and speeds up his hand again, his own cock throbbing with every beat of his racing heart. God, Patrick looks fucking amazing, his blush spreading from his face all the way down to his chest, his skin glowing and his lips swollen and red from biting them.

"I'm-" Patrick starts, but breaks off on a loud moan as his body slumps forward and his cock pulses in Pete's hand, "Oh fuck, that's so much better than I imagined" He finishes when he's regained the power of breathing.

"Yeah? You imagined it?" Pete smirks. He uses his finger to swipe up some of the come from his own chest, and lick if off. Patrick watches with hooded eyes and shivers.

"Every. Fucking. Day."

Pete smiles and leans up to kiss Patrick again, sucking on his full lower lips and sighing, he can do this now. This is the best he's ever felt.

"Let me just wipe this up and we can-" Pete starts, but Patrick interrupts him by leaning down and locking his come from Pete's torso.

"No need." He winks.

"God you're fucking filthy," Pete breathes, he states at Patrick in astonishment, "Lay on your back, baby."

Patrick does as he's instructed, spreading his legs wide so Pete can fit in between them. Pete kisses down his body, sucking Patrick's soft cock into his mouth and getting an overstimulated squirm in response. Pete lets the spent member slip out of his mouth and he crawls up to straddle Patrick's chest.

"Open up."

Patrick looks up at Pete inocently, his eyes big and blown, his cheeks rosy as he opens his mouth and lets his tongue loll out. Pete wastes no time in guiding his hardness into Patrick's eager mouth, who immediately starts sucking and moaning, the vibrations adding extra stimulation.

"Knew you'd fucking be-" Pete gasps, "-perfect at this. Just like everything else."

Patrick pushes himself further, swallowing as much as he can. Pete rocks his hips lightly, trembling all over. He's never felt so lucky.

"Stop, stop, we need to hurry this up." Pete breathes out a laugh, scooting back down between Patrick's legs. He sucks on a finger and slowly pushes it into Patrick, his hole greedily taking him in. Patrick groans as Pete moves in and out slowly, his cock filling out once more.

Pete pulls out his finger and leans down to the small box of cosmetics he keeps on the floor. Yes, _cosmetics,_ men can fucking pamper themselves too. Pete likes to have soft skin, sue him.

He digs around until his fingers catch the small, almost empty bottle of lube. He yips in victory and sits back up, then chokes when he sees Patrick.

Patrick has one hand around his dick, teasing himself, his other-

His other is-

"Pete." Patrick groans, pulling two fingers out of himself, he snatches the lube from Pete's hand and wastes no time squirting some out onto his own fingers and sliding them back into his hole. Pete watches in silence as Patrick squeezes in a third, his head thrown back and his neck stretched and just looking _so_ delicious. Pete can't help but to lean down and suck marks onto his milky throat.

"Come on, I'm ready." Patrick pulls his fingers free and uses his legs to wrap around Pete's hips and pull him in.

Pete pulls away from his neck and watches as Patrick spreads lube all over his cock, and guides it to his hole. Pete pushes forward lightly, feeling Patrick open up around the head of his cock.

"You feel so good, baby." Pete groans. He continues pushing forward until he makes it past the initial resistance, the rest of his cock sliding in smoothly. Once he's fully seated, he stops and give Patrick a moment to adjust.

"I'm ready, please. Please move." Patrick pants, undulating his hips and gasping as the head of Pete's dick brushes against that spot inside of him. Pete growls and pulls out slowly before slamming back in, and keeps going in that rhythm. Out softly, wait a second, back in. Just to hear the increasingly desperate yells Patrick emits.

"Play with your cock baby, touch it. Tell me how it feels." Pete begs, lifting Patrick's ass so his lower half is elevated, saying hell to the rhythm and just pounding in as fast and hard as he can, knowing he's abusing Patrick's prostate with everything thrust.

Patrick quickly wraps his hand around himself, using this thumb to spread the precome that's gathered on the tip and owing to the sweet slide of his hand. Pete can feel him tightening around him in pulses, he's close.

"Feels, feels so good." Patrick babbles, his eyes fluttering open every few seconds. He stops stroking himself and reaches his arms up to clutch the pillow his head is resting on. He squeezes his eyes closed and bites his lip as he feels the telltale warmth in his tummy, spreading down to his groin and building up til he feels like he's going to explode.

Pete has started breathing heavier, his thrusts getting sloppy and uneven, he's grasping Patrick's hips hard.

Patrick screams out loud as he comes, his untouched dick spurting continuously over his stomach and chest, his eyes squeezed closed and his mouth hanging open.

"Come on, come in me. I wanna feel you." Patrick moans, clenching down on Pete's twitching cock as his orgasm subsides.

"Oh g-god, baby, I love you so much." Pete crashed their lips together as he hit his high, burying himself into Patrick as far as he can go.

Pete flops down and kisses across Patrick's shoulders, making his way up his sweaty throat and kissing his lips passionately.

After his shivers stop, he pulls out and gets a damp cloth to clean Patrick up again. He softly wipes down the dozing man's chest and tummy, and wipes between his legs to clean the leaking lube and come.

"Baby? Baby, hey," Pete rouses Patrick, "Drink some of this, I'm gonna go make us some food."

Patrick takes the offered glass of water and gulps it down, before handing the glass back to Pete and laying down to bask in his post orgasm bliss. Pete returns 10 minutes later, two mugs of coffee and croissants balanced in his hands. He hands a mug to Patrick, places his own on the table bedside the bed and precariously climbs over the lump in his bed.

"Good morning." He smiles to his lover. Boyfriend?

"A very good morning." Patrick laughs, taking a bite of warm croissant and groaning.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended or turned on, that croissant better than me?"

"This croissant can give me things you can't, I'm sorry baby, you're just not the one for me." Patrick says in a high pitch, breathy voice. They both burst into laughter, this is so easy, it feels just like them. Things have changed, but it's not bad or scary, this is where they need to be right now.

"I won, by the way. I told you everyone is a bit gay." Pete winked.

"Oh fuck you," Patrick laughed. He threw a flake of pastry at Pete's naked torso, before leaning in and kissing him softly, "Hey, I love you."

"Hey, I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone was reading my Grease AU, I'm sorry, I'll get back to it soon. Right now I'm finding it more enjoyable to write spontaneously!
> 
> I'll be updating this once a day, possibly twice a day if I can't stop. I love you guys!


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